


Figure It Out

by endoftheline7 (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Stiles is Derek's Anchor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/endoftheline7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek starts acting strangely around Stiles, and Stiles just doesn't understand why. He doesn't know why everyone laughs at him when he asks, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Figure It Out

Stiles spins around on his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. It's past midnight now, which means he's been doing his homework for a few hours, and it's starting to give him a headache. As his hand slips away, the sigh that escapes him almost turns into a scream as he notices Derek Hale lying on his bed, hands behind his head and legs stretched out.

"Jesus, Derek! How long have you been there?" He exclaims.

"About 20 minutes. Don't turn off your laptop, I need you to research something for me," Derek says, standing up from the bed.

"Of _course_ you do. Ugh, just because Scott and I are pack now, doesn't mean you can just boss us around. Can't I just do it tomorrow? It's late, and I'd like to go to sleep," he complains, stretching.

"That's precisely what it means. And no, Stiles. I need this done now." He stalks over to Stiles, menacingly.

"Okay! Okay, _fine_. I don't see why you never ask any of the others for this, I mean I know I'm the go-to person for research, but you all have internet access. It's not that hard to use Google," he grumbles, turning around. "Look, what is it you need looked up? I'd like to get to get this done so I can go to bed."

"Anchors," is all he gets in reply, as Derek comes to stand behind his chair. 

"Is that it? Anchors? You're not gonna embellish on that, buddy? For all I know, you could mean ship anchors."

"You know what I mean," says Derek, shooting him the death glare. "My anchor, it's... It's started slipping. I don't know what to do."

Stiles is surprised to note a tinge of desperation to Derek's voice. "Hey man, you only had to ask. I'll help you out."

Stiles swears he hears a small breath of relief behind him as he opens up chrome.

"Out of curiosity, what was your anchor? _Is_ your anchor, I mean. If you don't mind saying."

"Anger. It's always been anger that anchored me."

"Wait, wait, _what_? Anger?" Stiles turns on his chair again to face Derek. "You mean to say, that the thing that Allison is for Scott, is _anger_ for you? The thing that Lydia is for Jackson? That Erica and Boyd are for each other? I'm not even gonna attempt to understand what's going on in Isaac's head, but still. _Seriously_ , Derek?"

Derek shrugs.

"Look, man, it doesn't take research to understand what's going on here. Your anger just isn't strong enough anymore."

Derek looks perplexed, and sits on the edge of Stiles' bed. "What do you mean?" He asks.

"I mean that you aren't angry anymore. Okay, so, maybe 'not angry anymore' is overstating things, but I'm saying that you aren't _as_ angry anymore. You have a pack now. You're... Okay, I don't know if happy will cut it, but... content? Yeah, you're content now, at least. That means that your anger isn't enough to anchor you anymore, I think you gotta find something else, dude," he explains.

Derek seems to have hunched over during his talking, looking far smaller than a man of his size should. "I... I don't want to stop being angry," he says, quiet and subdued.

Stiles is confused for all of 3 seconds before it clicks, and he feels a stab of pity for Derek. They may not get along sometimes, and Derek is a total ass in most of their interactions, but the dude is still his alpha, and all together not a bad guy. Stiles can't deny a complete lack of feelings for him, either.

"Hey, Derek, come on. Just because you're moving on a little, it doesn't mean it won't still hurt. You're still angry, just not angry _enough_. And that's _good_. Kate is gone, and while you can still be angry about what she did, it doesn't have to completely take over your life now," he says in what he hopes is a comforting tone, and shifts forward a little. "Don't you think your family would be happy that it doesn't hurt you as much anymore?"

Derek's head shoots up at that, and he eyes Stiles questioningly. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I- With... With my mom, it... It still hurts. Everyday," he chokes out. "When we first lost her, it hurt a _lot._ But now, it's bearable. I think you're getting to that stage. You had a reason, before- to hang on, and stay angry- Kate was still alive. But she's dead now, and you can move on. You don't have to feel bad about that."

Derek looks... Well, he looks grateful. Stiles thinks it's the first time Derek has ever looked like this around him. It's a little awkward, he never thought he'd end up having a conversation like this with Derek, but the guy seemed like he needed it.

Derek's voice is soft when he says, "Thank you."

"No worries, dude. I've been there. Maybe not _there_ , I mean I only lost my mom, whereas you lost... You know. But still, I get it. A bit." He huffs. "It sucks."

Derek smiles. Actually smiles. Only a little, a small quirk of his lips, upwards, but it's still there. It's a change to see him with a genuine smile instead of a scowl or a shit-eating grin, and Stiles pretends that he doesn't feel a rush of affection at this.

"Yeah, it really does suck." He stands up. "Anyway, while it's great that I'm moving on and all, there's still the problem of me not having an anchor."

"Oh, yeah. Shit. Um... I guess I will be doing some research then. In the mean time, I think you'll have to do your best to either stick to anger, or find a new anchor. Hang in there, buddy." 

"The full moon is in two weeks. Do your best with the internet, and I'll deal with that... As much as I can, anyway. Call me if you find anything out," is all Derek says before he's climbed out of the window.

Stiles sighs, and gets up to brush his teeth.

 

* * *

 

It's ten days later, and Derek is sitting in Stiles' room. This time, however, he's on the chair, while Stiles lounges on the bed.

"There wasn't much to find out, honestly. The most I could get, is that it could also be related to the fact that you're an alpha now. Stronger wolf, needs a stronger anchor. Whether your anger is waning or not, an emotion just isn't gonna cut it anymore, Derek. I don't know if it means that you need a person now or what, but you definitely need something else," he explains, as gets up from the bed.

Derek leans back on the chair, looking at the ceiling, annoyed.

"The full moon is in less than a week, Stiles. I'm not gonna find something else by then, especially not as strong as I need it to be."

"We'll figure something out, okay? What _could_ you use as an anchor?" He prompts, pacing.

"I don't _know_ , Stiles. That's the problem."

"Derek, come on, you gotta give me something her-"

Derek is out of the chair in half a second, and across the room, pushing Stiles up against the wall.

"I. Don't. Know."

"Okay, look, sorry man, I-" he manages to squeak out, as Derek tightens his grip.

He falls halfway to the floor all of a sudden, before he catches himself on the wall and looks up at Derek with annoyance.

"Dude, seriously. I thought we were past the whole 'push Stiles against walls' thing. That actually _hurts_ sometimes, do you forget you have werewolf super strength or something?" He pulls himself up to a standing position.

"I... Sorry," Derek says, looking at his hands. "I think it's the moon... I'm not as in control anymore."

"What so you're losing your temper easily, or something?"

"Or something."

 

* * *

 

On the night of the full moon, Stiles is dragged over to the Hale House, and is told to chain Derek up.

"Ugh, couldn't you have done this in the loft?" He asks.

"No. The rest of the pack would've noticed. This way, they'll just think I'm out in the woods."

"Yeah, um, why can't the pack know about this again? Because seriously, they'd be much better at chaining you up than I am."

"It's a wolf thing. An alpha isn't supposed to show weakness to his betas. Especially after I spent the last couple of months lecturing them about how important anchors are. I could've just as easily asked Lydia or Allison to do this, but considering you already knew, I thought I'd just ask you," Derek explains.

Stiles sighs as he tightens the chains. "Okay, I get it. I'm guessing that means I can't tell Scott? And for the record, there was no asking involved. I was _ordered_ to do this."

Derek rolls his eyes. "I'm your alpha."

"Yeah, whatever dude. So, anyway, what's gonna happen if these chains don't hold?"

"They will."

"Derek, they might not. I should stay. Get Allison on speed dial, so if you escap-" He's cut off by Derek growling.

"You're not staying. It's too dangerous."

"You just said yourself that the chains would hold, so how is it dangerous for me to be here?"

" _Stiles_ ," Derek practically whines. "They will hold, but in the very unlikely circumstances that they don't, you can't be here. That would be too dangerous."

"Aww, Derek, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't. I'm just imagining having to explain to the pack why you were mutilated in my old house."

"You're hilarious."

Later on, while Stiles is lying in bed and the moon is starting to rise, he gives in to the temptation to text Derek.

 _Good luck sourwolf. Don't kill anyone_.

He knows that Derek won't be able to reply, but will probably still see it.

 

* * *

 

The next pack meeting is a few days later, and he pulls on his red hoodie just before heading out.

"Stiles?" He hears his dad shout. "What time will you be back?"

"Not sure. I don't think it'll be too late. Bye dad!" He replies, before leaving the house and getting into the jeep.

When he gets to the loft he sees a few cars there already, and runs into Erica walking up to the doors.

"Hey Stilinski. Have you done the chem homework yet?"

"I've started it. If it's due tomorrow then Harris is gonna kill me, I can guarantee it won't be done by then."

Erica snorts as they reach the open door to the loft. Scott, Allison, Isaac and Lydia are already inside on the sofas, talking about the lacrosse game next Saturday. Derek is leaning against one of the counters, a soda in his hand. He looks up when Erica and Stiles enter, eyes wide and looking almost shocked.

" _Stiles_ ," he says, sounding surprised, putting his soda down and turning to face them fully.

Erica gives him a weird look, but goes and sits next to Isaac and pulls out her phone from her pocket, probably to text Boyd.

"Hey Derek. You okay? You seem really... Weird."

"I'm uh, I'm-" Derek rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm fine, Stiles. Um, thanks."

Stiles frowns. It's not like Derek at _all_ to get flustered and stumble over his words. He really _is_ acting weird.

Stiles chooses to ignore this and carry on, sensing that the others aren't really paying any attention to their conversation. "So, how'd the other night go? I'm guessing it didn't go too badly, considering my dad didn't get any calls about anyone being maimed in the woods."

Derek appears to be fighting off a smile. Is Stiles talking to a pod person?

"It went fine. I didn't even shift."

"What? How? Did anger end up working? Or did you find a new anchor?"

Derek fidgets, looking furtive. "I, um, I found a new anchor."

"Yeah? You gonna tell me what it is?"

Derek ducks his head so fast that Stiles almost misses the sudden flush of pink on his cheeks. Is Derek _blushing_? This is the strangest conversation Stiles has ever had with him.

"No. I'm not going to tell you," he answers, and strides away from Stiles as Jackson walks in.

Stiles is left standing there, mouth open on a reply, feeling utterly bewildered at the interaction he's just had

" _Dude_ ," he huffs under his breath, and wanders over to where Scott and Allison are sitting.

Once Boyd arrives, the rest of the meeting goes smoothly, without any weirdness, and only _one_ Jackson and Lydia domestic. At the end, Derek admits to seriously thinking about allowing Jackson to tell Danny about what's going on, something that the pack seems to be universally pleased about. As everyone is saying their goodbyes and leaving, Derek pulls him aside.

"I wanted to say thanks. For everything. With the, um, anchors, and stuff," he mumbles, looking uncomfortable.

Stiles grins. "No problem. Anytime, man." He pretends to ignore Derek's flinch as he pats his shoulder. Does the guy still hate him that much? "I'm just glad it all worked out okay."

"I just wanted you to know, I appreciate it."

"Derek, we're _pack_ now. You don't need to say thanks for things like that."

He gives him one last smile, before he turns, gives Isaac a wave, and follows the others outside to his car.

It's after this that things start to get _really_ weird.

 

* * *

 

First, it's the looks.

Derek won't stop _looking_ at him.

Not the usual look, either. Not the 'Stiles you're so _annoying_ , I'm going to rip your throat out' look. Something _else_.

It starts off by him noticing Derek begin look at him more often. Thinking about it, Derek did look at him pretty frequently before, but now it's just _ridiculous_. Which is fine, he guesses, if not a little abnormal.

But then the looks start to get longer. Stiles will be reading a book, or doing research on his laptop, or even looking at his phone, and he'll glance up to see Derek flat out _staring_ at him. Derek always quickly averts his gaze, his cheeks flushing red, and pretends to be doing something else, so Stiles ignores it at first. But it happens _all the time_.

He tries to ask Scott about it once, a few weeks later, giving him a ride home from another meeting. Scott just splutters and laughs, and refuses to answer him.

"Scott? Scott? Scott, come on! It's so _weird_! Tell me! You obviously know what's going on!  _Tell_ me!"

"No- no I... No! Oh my god Stiles, oh my _god_..." Scott chokes out in between laughs.

" _Scott_. Screw you, then. Why can't you tell me?"

"It's not that I can't tell you Stiles, it's that it's so _obvious_ what's going on here. It's too funny, oh _god_. You'll figure it out eventually," Scott says, before breaking out into uncontrollable giggling again.

Stiles just grumbles in irritation, and sulks for the rest of the drive, resigning himself to the fact that he probably shouldn't ask anyone else, in fear of the same reaction.

In the end, he decides to just act like he doesn't see it.

 

* * *

 

Next, it's the touching.

And not the pushing him against walls kind, either.

Stiles is almost ashamed to say that it takes him _ages_ to become aware of it. On the other hand, it is barely perceptible at first. It starts with feather-light touches; the brush of fingers on the back of his neck, grazing his arm as he walks past, skimming his fingers when he hands him something, or just generally standing way closer to him than he usually does.

It gets bolder- a pat on the back, a hand on his arm. Not quite a hug yet, but Stiles wouldn't be surprised if that happened soon. It finally appears on his radar when Derek actually _ruffles his hair_. He's sitting on one of the armchairs, texting his dad about what they'll eat later, and Derek walks past, and runs his fingers absentmindedly through his hair. Nobody else seems to notice anything is up, they're all distracted in some way or another, and Derek doesn't look back to see Stiles gaping in his wake.

Stiles is sure that he'd be fine with it, in fact, Stiles is sure that he'd be _more_ than fine with it, if he actually _knew_ what was going on. He's not going to ask Scott again, he thinks. He has a notion that the staring and touching are related, somehow, and questioning Scott could elicit the same response, and prevent him from getting an answer _again_.

The person that Stiles decides to talk to is Isaac. I mean Isaac lives with the guy, right? He's the person who's most likely to understand what's going on in Derek's head. He drags Isaac aside before lacrosse practice, to one end of the locker room.

Isaac just laughs.

"Oh _Stiles_. Oh _man_. _Wow_. I thought you would've got it by now," he says, leaning back against the lockers and chuckling.

"Got _what_? I have _no_ idea what's going on here! Please, just explain it to me!"

Isaac seems to contemplate this, and Stiles thinks _yes thank god_ for a second, but is disappointed all of a sudden when Isaac shakes his head.

"No, you know, I don't think I will. This should be something that you guys sort out yourselves."

"Oh my _god_!" Stiles exclaims. "You and Scott are being so _cryptic_. I hate both of you."

Stiles storms off, and makes the mistake of turning around to see Isaac lean in close to Scott and whisper in his ear. Scott barks out a loud laugh, and his eyes flick to Stiles. _Ugh_. He doesn't understand what's so _funny_ about this situation.

He can't seem to get answers out of _anybody_.

 

* * *

 

Not long after this, Stiles realises that he and Derek have been seeing a lot more of each other recently. Not just through pack meetings and movie nights, which have been happening more regularly now he thinks about it, but he's had more things he has to research, more things to discuss with him. He's even run into Derek a few times outside of school.

Derek Hale grocery shopping is _definitely_ an image he'd like to forget. It's just not _dramatic_ enough.

"Are you watching High School Musical?" Is the first thing that Derek says as he climbs through Stiles' window.

"...No."

Derek raises his eyebrows.

"Okay, yes. But... Whatever. It's good," he says. "Shut up. The real question here, is how you do even know what High School Musical _is_?"

Derek snorts, and pulls himself the rest of the way through the window. "I don't live under a _rock_ , Stiles. I know what it is. And you're right, it is good."

Stiles gawks at him. "I need you to look something up for me," Derek interjects.

"Of _course_ you do. What a _surprise_. Ugh. You have wifi, can you never do any of this stuff yourself?"

"You're better at it than I am."

"Stop, I'm blushing! You really know how to flatter someone," he snarks as he opens up his laptop. "What is it you need read up on?"

"Uh... Succubi."

" _Succubi_? _Really_? God what has my life _come_ to? I can't believe they're actually real."

So he spends the next _four hours_  researching succubi, due to Derek's constant demands that he carry on, even though he's already visited at least 100 different websites already.

"Ugh." He yawns. "Seriously, why the desperate need for Succubi information all of a sudden? Are they in town?"

"No."

"Wait, _no_? Why did I have to do all this research then?"

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared," Derek mutters sheepishly, after a pause.

"This was all for _nothing_? For... _preparation_? I was supposed to be studying for an econ exam tomorrow!"

"Stiles, you were watching a movie when I got here."

"I would've done it after!" He splutters.

"Sure you would've." Derek remarks sarcastically.

" _Screw_ you! Because this isn't a one time thing, you do this _all the time_! I could have things to do, but _no_ , of course I can't _do_ them, because Derek _wants_ something, so I have to drop _everything_ for him!" Stiles shouts, jumping up from where he's sitting. "The only reason I did this was because I thought it was urgent! _God_ , just get out!"

Derek stands up, a guilty look on his face. "Stiles-"

"No! I don't want to hear it! Get _out_ Derek!"

Derek actually looks quite remorseful as he slinks away, but Stiles can't bring himself to feel bad, he's too angry at the moment. He's simmering with rage when he finally crawls into bed, and lets sleep take over.

He's still fuming the next day, picking at his lunch, exhausted and failing econ. He feels someone poke at his side, and is a little taken aback when he sees that Boyd is the one that nudged him.

"You okay?" Boyd asks.

"Just tired. And pissed. Derek kept me up really late last night doing _completely_ unnecessary research." Stiles bites out, trying to tamp down on the urge to rant.

Boyd looks pensive for a minute. "He probably just wanted to spend time with you," he offers.

"What? Why would Derek want to spend time with _me_? He _hates_ me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Okay, dislikes me then. Tolerates at best. What the hell are you talking about, Boyd?" He queries.

Boyd stares at him, disbelieving. "You're kidding, right? You don't see what's going on here?"

"No! By all means, enlighten me!"

A moment of silence passes between them before a grin inches it's way onto Boyd's face, and he starts to snicker.

"You're all the _worst_! The absolute _worst_! Seriously, it's not fair that you all share some inside joke about Derek's weird behaviour lately," Stiles snaps, before he pulls back his chair and stomps away, Boyd still smirking behind him.

Stiles spends the rest of the day in a bad mood, frustrated, because he just doesn't _get_ it.

Of all people, Boyd was probably the most likely to actually tell him what the hell was going on, he discerns with annoyance when he gets home.

However, when he goes into his bedroom, something stands out. Sitting on his bed, is a _fucking candy basket,_ next to an _econ textbook_. It's probably the oddest thing that has ever happened to Stiles, and he has literally seen a Kanima in the flesh.

There's a small post-it note on the textbook, that reads ' _Sorry_.' Stiles can't refrain the small smile that crosses his face, bad mood lifted at last. He almost feels touched by the gesture, and decidedly forgives Derek.

And while Stiles will vehemently deny it until his dying breath, he keeps the post-it.

 

* * *

 

This is around the time that the teasing starts. Yet again, Stiles takes a pathetically long time to spot it- although, in his defence, it's not exactly unusual for the girls to tease Derek. Stiles isn't exactly sure _why_ , maybe it's because he's the oldest, he wonders.

Except now teasing Derek always has _Stiles_ involved somehow. He'll be doing something totally _innocent_ , and suddenly the girls are whispering to each other in between hysterics, and the only word Stiles is able to pick out is Derek.

He'll be bending over to tie his shoelace, and hear Erica cough ' _Derek_ ' under her breath, and an answering growl. Or he'll be finishing a soda, head tipped back and swallowing, to drain the last drops out, and see Lydia snort and elbow Derek in the corner of his eye. One time, after he's been curled up on the couch researching for an hour, he stands up and stretches to stop his muscles from cramping. Allison laughs so hard she almost falls over, and just keeps repeating Derek's name, while leaning on the table for support. Derek looks thoroughly unimpressed and a little strained during every one of these occurrences.

He opts out of the guys decision to practice lacrosse one lunch, and slams his tray down in front of the girls.

"I have had _enough_ of everyone being so _secretive_ when I ask them things. I'm going to ask you something now, and you're going to tell me the _truth_ , capiche?"

"Wow Stiles, what nice way to announce your presence. Very... dramatic," Lydia responds.

Stiles narrows his eyes, not missing the passive-aggressiveness in her tone. "Yeah, so, speaking of dramatic, don't you think that Derek can be dramatic? So... what's been going on with Derek lately? _Tell me,_ " he demands.

Lydia and Allison just laugh, while Erica rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, I heard about your little... quest, or whatever, to find out what's going on with Derek. And really Stiles, I'm disappointed. I didn't know you were this dense," Erica says dispiritedly.

"Erica, _please_! Why are you all being such terrible friends?" He whines.

"Stiles, come on, we're not being terrible friends," Allison jokes, shoving Stiles' shoulder playfully from across the table. "We aren't being _mean_ , we just... want you to get there yourself."

"That's putting it mildly. Wake _up_ , Stilinski. It's painfully obvious to everyone except you," Erica snipes, getting up from the table. "I'm going to watch Boyd play Lacrosse. You coming?" She asks.

"No, I'm good thanks. But you should go, Allison," Lydia encourages, gesturing towards what Stiles supposes is the direction of the pitch. "Scott and Isaac are both there."

Allison seems to be fighting back a smile. "Yeah, okay. See you later," she answers, rising from the table as well. "You too, Stiles," She says as she brushes past him, hand on his arm.

"Scott _and_ Isaac?" He grills Lydia, once Allison and Erica are out of earshot. Well, Erica probably isn't.

"Don't ask. I'm not really sure myself. All I know is that there's something going on between them. _All_ of them."

"Like... a threesome? Are they having threesomes?"

"I don't _know_ , Stiles. Ask Scott. In my opinion, I think it's something more than that," Lydia remarks.

"Huh. I guess that could be kinda cool. Having two people that love you," he comments, as he pushes his food around. Lydia just smiles back at him in reply.

"Are you sure you can't give me _any_ insight into this whole Derek thing? None at all?" He says after the companionable lull in the conversation lasts a bit longer.

Lydia sighs. "I _can_ do that, Stiles. But I don't _want_ to, it's not my place. This really is something that you should be able to work out for yourself. And you will work it out eventually, I'm sure."

"Yeah, _eventually_. Right now, it's killing me! I have no idea what's going on, like, at _all_. It's really infuriating not being in the know."

Lydia looks at him sympathetically. "Like I said, you'll _get_ there. Besides, where's the fun in just telling you?"

" _Ugh_." Stiles throws his hands up in exasperation.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is grasping at straws when he decides to ask Jackson and Danny. He doubts that _Jackson_ will be helpful. He corners them in the library the next day, begging them for information. Jackson sits there glowering the entire time, and Danny just seems confused.

"Stiles, I'd love to help, but... I don't really _know_ the guy. The longest period of time I spent with him was back when you tried to convince me his name was Miguel," Danny says.

"Okay," Stiles sighs. "Well thanks for actually _talking_ to me anyway..." He gives Jackson a pointed look.

"Yeah, look, Stilinksi, I know what's going on here. And no, I'm not gonna tell you," Jackson says at last.

" _Why_?"

"Because I don't want to," Jackson declares. "I'm taking this book out," He leaves the table, and strides away.

Stiles drops his head into his hands and lets out a frustrated groan. "It's so _unfair_!" He yells.

" _Stiles_!" He hears Danny hiss. " _Shhh_." He lifts his head up to see half the library giving him dirty looks, including the librarian. Jackson is at the front desk, _laughing_ at him. He pokes his tongue out at him in retaliation, but Jackson keeps laughing.

He knows he's really hit rock bottom when later, he sees Peter Hale across the street, and jogs over to catch up with him.

"Hey! Hey, asshole!" He shouts to catch his attention.

Peter spins around. "Are you talking to me?"

"Do you see any other assholes here at the moment?"

"Well, I'm talking to one, so, yeah."

Stiles glares at him and crosses his arms. "I need to talk to you."

"What, is it about my dear nephew?" Peter taunts.

"...How did you know?"

"I have my sources," he replies.

"Seriously, how do you manage to be so _creepy_ , _all_ of the time?"

"It's a gift," Peter says bluntly.

Stiles scoffs. "If you know what i'm talking about, then can you actually explain to me what's going on?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because..." Stiles trails off. "Please? I'm asking nicely?"

"Goodbye, Stiles. See you around." Peter gives Stiles his trademark creepy smile, and walks away, leaving Stiles utterly thrown, standing on the side of the street.

 

* * *

 

"...and he walked away! Just like that!" He rants to Scott, throwing down his game controller.

"Well, you were talking to Peter, how did you expect it would go?" Scott reasons.

They're at Scott's house, lying on his bed, avoiding the empty pizza boxes and crumbs scattered across the floor.

"I don't know, man, I don't know. I guess I thought it'd go better than that."

Scott snorts in reply, but doesn't say anything else. Stiles sees this as his cue. "So... are you _sure_ you can't te-"

" _No_ , Stiles," Scott interrupts, nudging his side jokingly. "Why are you so obsessed with finding out anyway?"

"Oh come on, like you wouldn't be curious. It's... _weird_ , okay."

Scott grins at him. "When has Derek ever been normal?"

"Good point," he says, fiddling with the controller. "So, Lydia said that..." He falters, not quite knowing how to phrase his question.

"Lydia said what?"

He hesitates. "She said that there was something going on with you, Allison _and_ Isaac. I'm not judging... I just... You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Scott looks at him, and the corner of his mouth curls upwards. "I know I can. Thanks, dude. It's um... I'm not entirely sure yet. But it's something. It's something there, for all of us. I think we're just seeing how it goes right now."

Stiles beams at Scott, and can't help but laugh at the thought he suddenly has. "What's her dad gonna think of her dating _two_ werewolves?"

"I think he's gonna be... pretty angry." Scott guesses.

" _Pretty angry_? You _think_?"

 

* * *

 

The bizarreness with Derek still doesn't stop.

Except, now it's _stupid_ , because there is so obviously _something_ going on, and Stiles has the overwhelming feeling that he's missing something extremely important.

He can't even bring up his _lab_ partner without Derek being all weird and growly nowadays. All he did was offhandedly mention to Erica that he and Tracy were working on their project that weekend, and Derek tensed up, looking even more disgruntled than he usually does, and spent the rest of the meeting barely saying anything, while giving Stiles even _stranger_ looks. Not that he's very chatty normally, but it was slightly out of character. Stiles can't help but speculate that it had something to do with spending time with different people outside of the pack- his other prevailing theories for what could be going on don't seem to make any sense at all.

And now Derek is actually _laughing_ at Stiles' jokes. Derek laughing at _all_ is completely out of the ordinary, but laughing at what _Stiles_ says indicates some very severe brain damage. He's proud to say that the laughing is something he picks up on immediately- he cracks one stupid joke at pack movie night, everyone groans and laughs, and he notices Derek _joining_ in. It's safe to say that Stiles is officially freaked the fuck out.

He stays behind at the end, and stands by the table, arms crossed. "Okay, _what_ the _hell_ is going _on_ with you?" He shouts at Derek.

"No. Nope. No, bye," he hears, and registers it coming from Isaac as he sprints up the stairs.

"What do you mean?" Derek replies, after giving Isaac an exasperated look.

"I _mean_... you! You're acting so _weird_ lately! You're... You _look_ at me! You were laughing at my jokes!"

"...I look at you?"

"Okay, I know how it sounds, just... Shut up. Something is _definitely_ going on here," Stiles exclaims. " _Explain_ yourself!"

Stiles is shocked to see a faint flush of pink on Derek's cheeks. Derek looks... embarrassed. _Embarrassed_. What the _fuck_.

"Stiles... I- uh, I... I don't know _how_." Derek's expression has now morphed into one of frustration, as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "I..."

Stiles sighs with resignation. "Look, I have no idea what's happening here. Just text me when you figure out what you want to say to me. Or don't. Whatever. Just do what you want," he says, before turning to leave.

"Derek, you _idiot_ ," Isaac shouts from upstairs. Stiles glances back when he walks through the door, to see Derek giving him that look again. He pushes down the desperation to just _understand_ and keeps walking.

He's halfway home when it hits him, and he almost drives off the road when he realises. That _look_. The look that Derek's been giving him for the past few months.

 _It's Stiles' Lydia Martin look_.

Or what used to be, he supposes it's his Derek Hale look now, but oh  _god,_ it all makes _sense_. Derek _looking_ at him all the time, Derek _touching_ him, Derek wanting to spend _time_ with him. Derek giving him _apology gifts_ , and the girls constantly _teasing_ them both, it all _fits_. He's turning the jeep around and driving back to the loft before he even thinks about what he's doing.

Derek is in _love_ with him.

 

* * *

 

"You're in love with me."

Is the first thing that escapes his mouth when he gets to the loft. Derek's head shoots up from the book he's reading, eyes wide, looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. Isaac is just reaching the bottom of the staircase, and almost trips over his feet when he hears. When Isaac's face comes into view, he has very much the same expression as Derek.

"Um... I... Should I go? I should go," Isaac says, awkwardly.

"Yeah, Isaac, don't you have somewhere you need to be?" Derek finally manages to use his mouth instead of letting it hang open, although his words come out strained.

"Yeah! Yeah, I do. I'm, uh, I'm going to Scott's... Allison's gonna be there too, it'll be great, we'll have loads of sex..." Isaac winces and shakes his head at his rambling, desperately trying to fill the silence as he stumbles over to the door. "Uh... Thanks for involving me in this important milestone in your relationship, guys," he says, before darting out of the door.

The silence that follows Isaac's departure continues for what feels like an age, before Stiles can't take it anymore.

"That probably shouldn't have been the first thing I said," he admits sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

"No, probably not."

"Was I wrong?"

"No. You were right."

Stiles sits down on the sofa opposite Derek, and sighs. "We could've avoided a lot of misunderstandings if somebody had actually _told_ me what was going on."

Derek huffs in amusement and looks at his hands, which are still clutching a book. "I guess they were pretty invested in us sorting this out ourselves."

"Yeah, but how long did _that_ take? I feel like so much time has been wasted. We could've been making out for at _least_ a month now if I'd understood sooner."

Stiles swears he sees Derek's hands clench on the book he's holding. "It did take you a pretty long time. I honestly thought you were smarter than this."

"Hey, it's not like I have much experience in this kind of thing. And shut up. Technically, you aren't allowed to say mean things about me anymore."

Derek frowns. "I'm fairly sure that I am."

"You're not. It's the rules," Stiles says. "But seriously, why didn't you say anything? I mean, I _literally_ asked you 10 minutes ago."

"I didn't know _how_ to tell you. I'm not good at... _this_. Relationships, or whatever. I didn't know how you'd react."

Stiles slowly rises from the sofa, strolls over to Derek, and moves his book aside, so he can straddle him. Derek makes a choking noise, and Stiles grins, wide and happy as he hooks one hand behind Derek's neck, and rests the other on his chest.

"This is how I'm reacting." He leans forward so he can whisper in Derek's ear. "I love you too."

He feels Derek's heartbeat racing beneath his palm as he pulls back to gauge his reaction. Derek is smiling up at him, joyful and carefree, looking younger than Stiles has ever seen him. His hands slowly travel up to tangle in Derek's hair as he bends forward and kisses him. Derek lunges upwards to meet him, hands flying up to clutch at his waist, hips rising on a quick thrust to press against Stiles', and mouth opening with a satisfied groan.

" _Stiles,_ " he whispers in awe in between desperate, open-mouthed kisses. "Oh _god_ , _Stiles_ ," he moans.

Stiles lightly bites down on his lip, distantly noting that he's moaning just as much as Derek is. He slides his hands underneath Derek's t-shirt, digs his nails in, and _drags_ , feeling a surge of arousal as the abs under his fingertips jump and shudder. He grinds down on Derek's lap, groaning, while Derek gasps into his mouth and grips his waist tighter. When his hand slips further up his chest, accidentally brushing his nipple, Derek makes a strangled noise, and his hips shove upwards, suddenly and forcefully, and Stiles realises that he's harder than he's ever been in his _life_.

Derek lets out a grunt when he finally clutches at his shirt and pulls it off, and Stiles has to bite back an impressed noise as he looks down at Derek's abs. He's seen them before, of course, but now they're up close and... _touchable_. He's so distracted by the view that he doesn't notice Derek using his claws to rip open Stiles' shirt, and fastening his mouth to his collarbone.

" _Oh_. Oh _wow_. Derek, holy- _holy_ shit," he whines, hands scrabbling for purchase in Derek's hair. He knows he's gasping, he can hear it, deafeningly loud in the quiet room, and his gasps become increasingly louder as he pulls on Derek's hair, and feels his moans vibrate against his skin. He immediately forgets about the noticeable hickey he'll have when Derek pulls backwards, lips so red and swollen that Stiles just _has_ to cover them with his own.

Derek tugs him down as far as he'll go, pressing their bare chests and burning hot skin together, as Stiles kisses his way down his neck. He trails messy, feverish kisses on his throat, and sharply thrusts his hips against Derek's as he feels nails scrape down his back. Derek looks surprised when he abruptly leans back, hands going straight for Derek's jeans, as he fumbles with his fly and dips his hand beneath the waistband. He slips his hand below both the denim of his jeans and the cotton of his underwear, now damp with pre-come, and experiences a thrill as he touches bare skin.

 _He's touching someone else's dick_ , he thinks with hazy detachment, as he experimentally strokes up and down. He's pulled out of his daze by Derek crying out, and grasping at Stiles' biceps. " _Stiles_. Stiles, _please_ , please, oh god." Derek whimpers, and Stiles can't believe that this is actually happening, that Derek is moaning because of _him_. He lurches for his own zipper, his dick so hard he can't stand it any longer, and is stopped by Derek, who's hand is now disappearing into Stiles' pants.

" _Shit_ , Derek," he breathes out shakily, as he jerks up in Derek's fist. Derek's hand is moving faster, teasing out more moans from Stiles, and he lets his head fall down onto Derek's shoulder, panting against him. He keeps moving his wrist, jerking Derek's dick, even as his hand begins to shake with both exertion and arousal, until Derek starts shuddering beneath him. He hears his name hissed out in his ear, with a tone of wonderment and warning, as Derek arches his hips up one last time, and comes all over Stiles' palm with a final groan. He moves his hands up, grasping Derek's waist and smearing his come, while Derek keeps tugging at his dick, and then Stiles is digging his fingernails into his side, and moaning and _coming_ everywhere, gasping onto Derek's shoulder.

He lifts his head up to lean it against Derek's forehead. "We can do that again, right?" He asks, once his breathing has slowed down.

"Definitely," Derek says as his face splits into a wide grin. "It feels like I've been waiting forever for this."

Stiles shuffles back, moving so that he can see him better. "How long have you been waiting to do this?"

Derek's shrugs. "I don't know. I mean, I wanted this before, I did. But the whole thing with the anchors happened, and I just... I wanted it so _badly_."

"Wait, anchors? What are you on about?"

"You're my new anchor, Stiles."

Stiles feels his eyes widen. "I am?"

Derek's hand comes up to cup his cheek. "Yeah. That night, I was starting to shift, but my phone flashed up with some stupid text you'd sent. It made me think of you."

"Are you saying that me _texting_ you caused this?"

"I guess so."

 

* * *

 

He gets home an hour later, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he possibly can. Derek had ripped his t-shirt, so he's borrowing one of his, and it doesn't do much to cover up the mess of hickeys and stubble burn on his neck, which is why there is no way in _hell_ he's letting his dad see him.

His plan to creep upstairs is thrown out of the window when he turns around to face his dad standing behind him.

"Hey dad! I was just... at Scott's."

His dad looks pointedly at his neck and raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

"...No."

"Where were you, Stiles?"

"At Derek's," he mumbles, shifting on his feet.

"You were with Derek _Hale_? Why? Are you... _dating_ him?"

"Yeah," Stiles whispers.

"You're _sixteen_ , Stiles, _Christ_."

"I know."

"I... Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's a fairly new development, dad. It actually only happened tonight."

His dad looks at him, disbelieving. "We're going to have a conversation about this, son. Just not tonight. It's late, you should get some sleep."

"Okay, dad. Night," he says, patting his dad on the back before starting to climb the stairs.

"Stiles? Just... answer me one thing, put my mind at rest for a while. Does he make you happy?" His dad asks from behind him.

He looks back, feeling a smile creep onto his face.

"Yeah, he really does."

 

* * *

 

In the next pack meeting, he bounds in, grinning as he realises that he can greet Derek in the way he wants too now. As he pulls away from the kiss, he's pretty sure he can hear the girls cheering in the background.

He sits directly next to Derek, their sides pressed together. Stiles looks around the room, and can't stop the warm glow that threatens to engulf his heart at the sight of his pack.

Stiles doesn't need an anchor, and probably never will. That doesn't stop him from having one.


End file.
